


It's Love and Life I Fight For

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey,” Hope calls up to Fang and Lightning.  “Do you think we could take a break?  My, um, leg is twisted.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Love and Life I Fight For

He’s doing his very best to cover it up, but Snow isn’t moving too well. His injuries from the fall must still be paining him, and as the blows of a pulsework soldier rain down on his back, Hope can see his face twist in agony.

Lightning dispatches the soldier with a few quick blows of her sword, a hastily cast ruin spell short-circuiting its central electronics. It implodes in a shower of sparks.

Snow is back on his feet in a matter of moments, punching the air triumphantly. “Alright! Let’s keep moving.” He shows no visible signs of pain.

“Hey,” Hope calls up to Fang and Lightning. “Do you think we could take a break? My, um, leg is twisted.” He regrets it almost immediately. That sounds stupid. Could you twist your leg?

Lightning looks like she might protest—she has that glow in her eyes, the one his mother used to get at the prospect of cooking a meal for twenty people. _No stopping now_.

Fang’s gaze moves rapidly from Hope, to Snow, and back again. She leans her spear against the wall. “Here’s as good a place as any, I expect. Lightning, I want to talk about that back flip you do.”

Lightning blinks. “What about it?” she asks.

“You should probably cut it out. Making me look bad.”

Lightning stares at her for a couple of seconds, before they both laugh.

“Break time!” Vanille announces happily, stretching her arms over her head and plunking down right where she stands.

Sazh sits down beside her. “About time. Place is ridiculous.”

Snow’s sitting as well, back to the wall, easing himself down a little ways away from the others. After a moment’s hesitation, Hope walks over and sits down next to him.

“Yo,” Snow greets him. “You okay?”

“Huh?” Hope says, before he remembers. He rubs his leg, hoping vaguely that it’s the right one. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Snow grins, patting him on the shoulder. “You know, if you’re tired, you can say so. Not everyone is built to go at it twenty-four hours a day.”

 _Look who’s talking_ , Hope thinks. What he says is, “Thanks.”

He leans his back against the wall. The metal is warm, humming with the power of the Ark. It makes his brand itch.

He glances at Snow’s brand, bright and obtrusive on his forearm. It’s getting bigger. Everyone’s is.

“Are _you_ okay?” he asks after a few seconds.

Snow looks back at him. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Of course. Never better.” He clenches his fists to show just how okay he is.

“You just…seemed upset about Cid. Never mind.” _Of course_ he’d been upset. They all had been.

Snow looks like he makes himself think about his answer before he talks. “Yeah. I was. I am. I’m angry.” He rubs gloved hands over his eyes. He looks exhausted. “Mostly at myself.”

“Why? You haven’t done anything!” It comes out louder than Hope means is, words reverberating back down from the metal ceiling. Down the hall, Sazh and Vanille stare at him. He feels his cheeks heat as he lowers his voice. “You just want to save Cocoon. We all do.”

Snow lowers his head, hair slipping down into his eyes. “I’m not doing this for Cocoon.”

“What?” Hope doesn’t understand. “But you said—.”

“I know what I said. But I’m not doing this for Cocoon. I’m doing for Serah. And for you.” His lips harden into a thin, pale line. “And for Nora. My people _and_ your mother,” he says before Hope can ask. “All the people I’ve let down.”

“You…” Hope doesn’t quite know what to say. He remembers all the things he shouted at Snow, the intense, murderous rage. He remembers the powerlessnes and the fear and how good it felt to have someone to focus it on.

He remembers Snow leaping to his rescue without any thought to himself, hanging his head, baring his neck to Hope’s knife. Snow had been willing to die. To let Hope have his revenge.

Hope climbs to his feet and offers his hand. Snow looks up, confusion written across his face.

“You haven’t let _me_ down,” Hope says.

For a moment, Snow just stares at his hand, looking lost. Then he grins, slapping his palm into Hope’s, letting him drag him to his feet. Snow’s so much stronger than him that he almost falls over.

“Alright. Let’s keep going.”


End file.
